Thursday, November 30, 2006

My eyes started tearing the moment my hubby’s face faded from my view as the nurse pushed me into the lift on the way down to the Operating Theatre (OT).

Yes, call me a coward, but thoughts of never waking up from the operation flashed through my mind. Don’t ask me why.

While in the waiting area, I calmed my nerves and reminded myself that my friends and loved ones are saying their prayers for me, and FORGOODNESSSAKE THIS IS A MINIMALLY INVASIVE PROCEDURE so get a grip on yourself woman!!

No way, man, I tell you. My whole body shook uncontrollably – I don’t know if it’s from the cold in the room (I was only clad in a thin hospital gown), hunger (having had my last meal of the day at 7.30am, and my operation was scheduled for 6.30pm) or simply, senseless fright.

I’ve always thought that they would knock you out before wheeling you into the OT (at least, that was what they did to me when I was a 9-year-old undergoing operation to remove a growth on my wrist). I had a good look around the OT. The medical apparatus and wired devices intrigued me. My pulse rate remained at a cool 60 bpm. But I didn’t feel calm at all.

They had to insert a humongous intravenous needle into my metacarpal vein for an IV drip. The anaesthetist assured me that it’s not gonna hurt. I didn’t dare to peep. He gave me a local anaesthesia on my left hand (he was right, it felt like an itsy bitsy ant bite) and proceeded to insert the needle into my numbed vein.

I waited for what seemed like eternity before the surgeons finally appeared in the OT. Here I was, shivering and shaking and feeling somewhat embarrassed that the surgical team could see me trembling under the thick blanket. Their reassuring smiles and cheerful banter did nothing to relieve my mounting tension.

“Are you ready?” My gynae asked. You gotta be kiddin’, Doc.

So this is it. Honestly, I don't remember being so fearful undergoing surgery as a kid.

The anaesthetist did his job swiftly, telling me at the same time to think of beautiful things, such as holidays and nice places. I felt the tingly anaesthesia rushing up my arm. Before I knew it (it must have been less than 5 seconds), my consciousness faded into a black abyss.Mama Piggy is now recuperating at home, with Kootoo Monster providing good company.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

From the desk of Mama Piggy:We're back from the lovely island of Phuket!The cats missed us terribly, especially Kootoo Boy.My sister, who popped by twice a day to look after the trio, said Kootoo was rather subdued and ignored her totally. He even crouched outside our bedroom and howled *_*I can't imagine what it would be like if we were to take two weeks' vacation!Here are some vacation pixs taken with my Nokia N73.

Pretty flowers at a spa.

Sunset at Patong beach.

This one really tickled me!! (Katoys = "Lady boys")

Grim reminder of the disaster in 2004.

Chanced upon this while shopping at Tesco. Cat food for 40 baht!! (S$1 approximately 23.3 baht)

Cats physics:Second Law of Energy Conservation- Cats also know that energy can only be stored by a lot of napping.

Thursday, November 02, 2006

That's the number of cats "humanely destroyed" by the SPCA Singapore in its last FY ending 30 June 06.Its latest annual report came through the post today, and here are some grim statistics on cats:No. brought in: 5,568No. of adoptions: 358No. claimed/rehomed/released: 138No. in shelter: 60No. humanely destroyed: 5,01290% of the cats brought in to the SPCA are humanely destroyed (I love euphemisms!). Why? Because SPCA does not have the space nor financial resources to keep all 5,568 of them in the shelter.Why were these 5,568 cats brought to the SPCA then? Because some of us humans have deemed that cats cannot and should not co-exist with us in our clean, modern urban dwellings. Ergo, these cats are condemned and kaput!Of course, some of the 5,012 cats HAVE to be put to sleep because they were victims of OUR abuse, and letting them go is the solution to their physical and emotional suffering.But what about the rest? Finishing them off with a lethal jab is, of course, the easiest way out to the "overcrowding" situation. But is it really humane? From whose perspective is it humane anyway?When did they become lesser beings?Indeed, if you look at it from a certain perspective, dying seems to be far better off than living life as a community cat - running away from nasty children, watching out for cruel abusers, suffering from constant hunger and cold, and living in perpetual fear of pest controllers. What bothers me is this: Why can't we accept these animals on their own terms? Why don't we learn to tolerate them? Afterall, we don't go around rounding up people whom we dislike and finish them off with a gun, do we? (Unless, of course, you are from the mafia.)

I know putting animals to sleep is a nasty job which the SPCA had to do. Because WE allow it to happen. And which is why I have decided NOT to donate to the SPCA. I know it also needs funds for public education and outreach activities and sterilisation of strays etc. SPCA has done a decent job in raising awareness of animal welfare and deserves a pat on the back. But I cannot sign on the dotted line, knowing that part of my donation would go towards the killing of 5,012 cats. I think my money would be better used in sterilising the community cats in my neighbourhood and allowing them the chance to live out its life as a fellow being.

Kootoo - one of the lucky few put up for adoption at the SPCA in May 2005.